Vengeance of a Ranger
by Gall-4185
Summary: The tale of my D&D character,Thaimor Galonodel,and his hunt for the Drow Mage Iirith. My first attempt at writing so please let me know how I'm doing. Chapter 4 finally done
1. Chapter 1:Solitude

Vengeance of a Ranger  
Chapter 1  
  
"As darkness falls, I stand alone.  
As night approaches, I stand tall  
Against the approaching darkness  
I stand here without friends or family.  
Yet I do not fear this coming night,  
For the only darkness I need fear is that in my heart  
As darkness falls, I stand alone"  
  
These words reflect the outcome of the many trials I have faced throughout my short existence. Though I have lost much, and been poised to lose more, I have faced down the beast within my soul and have triumphed. For now at least.  
  
Whilst The High Forest has been my home for many a year, I have always been an outsider. Not in the sense of the denizens of the Higher and Lower Planes of Existence, but I have never felt welcome in any company, nor have taken steps to welcome me. My mixed heritage may have some contribution, but I feel it is the path I have chosen to walk that has been the deciding factor. I am a Half-Elven Ranger; my path leads me away from Mankind and his cities while my race excludes me from the woodland homes of my father. It could be said that my isolation makes me weak, but I have found an affinity towards life that many will never experience. Within Nature's boundaries I can sense the scales of balance and anticipate how to tip those scales towards a brighter future. Things are changing. I can feel voids in the forest, voids where life should flourish. How long before I must face this darkness? How long until I test myself and find if my heart is free enough to protect my wards? 


	2. Chapter 2:Invasion

Vengeance of a Ranger  
  
Chapter 2:A desecration of life  
  
I can feel them moving through the forest towards the settlements. It is not the invaders that I sense; it is the forests discomfort with their presence. I have tried to gain a clearer impression of these intruders but my affinity with all life in this forest fails. They may well be the perversions of life more commonly known as the Undead. The animals I encourage to scout for me flee before they can gain a clear view of what I am facing. Before the sun rises I will leave my lair and conduct my own investigation concerning these intruders. Regardless of my own desires, I must protect the innocent settlers of this forest.  
  
My course of action was easily determined when one of my watchers heard screams from one of the northern settlements shortly after nightfall. Even without my Elven heritage I would still be able to move quickly through the darkened forest, such is my familiarity with my home. I could feel the unease of the forest as I approached the settlement; the absence of life was disturbing the trees. Distracted by their discomfort, I barely noticed the shattered remains of the boundary fence until I was almost upon them. I began to fear for the lives of my wards, aware that I may already be too late to protect them. Using my skill as a hunter, I carefully approach the nearest stable only to be confronted by a broadsword wielding skeletal warrior. The warrior notices my approach as I draw my dual katanas and dodge his first, wild strike. I can feel his inhuman strength just from the passing blade. Until this moment, my tenure as guardian of this forest has been fairly peaceful, the only exception being the bandit raids last summer. I can feel my rage mounting when I think of the innocent settlers that I was supposed to protect. The monster swings it's blade in a bold attempt to decapitate me but I duck and use one of my own blades to divert his attack, intending to follow through with my other blade and finish this quickly. Imagine my shock and horror at seeing my blade shatter under the strength of the blow and the despair that rose when my spare blade struck home only to leave my foe unscathed. My blow should have cut through the warriors shoulder, leaving it at a disadvantage. With my attack proving ineffective, I find myself placed at a distinct disadvantage. Reduced to one blade against a stronger opponent I am forced to rely upon my speed and agility if I am to escape with my life. I revert to wielding my katana two handed, a method I have not favoured for many seasons, in an attempt to put more force behind my blows. Still my foe tries to press his advantage and force me to make a fatal error. I back pedal, leaving an opening in a desperate attempt to end this now. Relief floods through me when my foe swings high, only to find me rolling beneath his guard. His blade connecting with nothing more than thin air whilst my blade connects cleanly with the back of his knee, dropping him to a more vulnerable position. I reverse the swing of my blade, severing my foe's head from his skeletal neck. It seems that desperation can provide opportunities that a sane being would never consider.  
  
As I turn from my fallen opponent, I realise that I'm not alone. A dozen zombies are slowly approaching, followed by a lone, robed figure. One by one the zombies attack me and one by one they return to death by strokes of my blade. I relish in the fact that I can harm these opponents with far greater ease than the skeletal warrior, but I find myself longing for my second blade, which now lies shattered in the dust. Five zombies have fallen to my blade when I begin to tire without warning. The lone figure has revealed himself to be a mage by casting a ray of enfeeblement upon me. Still I battle on against the remaining seven zombies, regardless of the spell caster's attempts to aid my foes. I skewer the throat of the first zombie who looks to press this advantage and kick out against a second who was looking to flank me. I spin as I withdraw my blade from the recently disposed zombie and remove the head of the would-be flanker. I roll forward to avoid an attack from behind, lashing out as I return to my feet. Another desperate manoeuvre which pays off as I watch two more zombies fall by my blade. The odds in this encounter are slowly beginning to equalize as there are only three zombies left for me to face. Seemingly unbidden, the last three zombies attack in a headlong charge, hoping to overwhelm my defences. The first tries to disarm me, only to find my katana slicing through his midriff. The second and third staggered their attacks, planning to create a hole in my defence. I may not count myself amongst the most proficient warriors of the Realms, but I am able to wield my blade well enough to defeat this tactic. A sidelong dash as my foes collide leaves me an ample opening to defeat them and face the mage. A simple tactic to overcome two foes leaves both zombies returning to the land of the dead.  
  
Turning once again, I stand to face the robed figure. He surveys his fallen troops and lowers his hood to reveal the truth of what he is, I cannot prevent the gasp that escapes my lips. "What place does a Drow have amongst a group of Undead upon the surface?" "Whatever place he chooses, but tell me tu'rilthiir, why do you defend these woods?" is his reply, spitting the word tu'rilthiir as if it is an insult. "I defend those who cannot defend themselves from the evil of this world, evils such as the Drow!" "Ah, one who follows a noble path. Tell me defender, who will protect you?" His words warn me of his intent to strike. I raise my lone blade in defiance and defence. "I do what I must, regardless of the cost" "So be it, defender. Iirith of House Arabani shall show you the cost of defiance"  
  
With these words, darkness claims me as pain consumes my very existence.  
  
(A.N. a bit shorter than I'd planned, but more action based. "tu'rilthiir" means Half-Elf. Thanks to my reviewers as well, I can only hope to meet you expectations) 


	3. Chapter 3:The Hunt Begins

Vengeance Of A Ranger Chapter 3-The Hunt Begins  
  
Pain...hurt...guilt...despair...weakness...all of these plague my mind as I return to consciousness. Whatever spell the Drow mage Iirith cast upon me, it drained my strength and sapped the last of my will to fight. The moon was high during my battle with Iirith's undead minions, but now the morning is fast approaching. The remnants of my broken blade lie gleaming in the dirt, accompanied by the bones of the Drow mage's skeletal champion. The reminder of my initial victory does little to ease my guilt. I was the protector of these woods, yet I have allowed a Necromancer to lay waste to at least one settlement under my watch. How can I have failed in this way? Standing amongst the ashes of this once happy settlement I make my solemn vow that Iirith and his followers shall face my wrath and be made to pay for their crimes against the innocents of these woods.  
  
The days following my vow appear merely as a blur as I follow the trail of destruction left by Iirith. I sadly notice that none of the settlements show any signs that their occupants have died for no bodies litter the area surrounding the ashes. Perhaps there is hope that some escaped but I do not think so. I have felt the Drow's power and can only fear that he has added to his army of the night and his trail heads ever northwards. In spite of everything, I can't help but notice that Iirith's trail bears great resemblance to the trail of a nesting animal. I fear and suspect that Iirith is looking for a lair to house his undead horde. If this is the case, I not only need to warn nearby cities and towns, I must also attempt to learn more concerning my foe.  
  
A week has passed since Iirith and his minions invaded the Citadel of Mists in a bloody conquest. I was forced to watch, knowing that any attempt to involve myself in that battle would have surely ended my life. While I do not fear death, I feel that my life still has much to accomplish. I cannot exact my vengeance upon Iirith if I am a mindless zombie in his army. It seems that Iirith plans to winter here and conduct a ceremony of some kind before he unleashes his hordes upon the realms. I will have to leave this place and seek information about the Drow before I can hope to defeat him. I just pray that whatever he is planning will not take place in my absence.  
  
Author's Notes: Thanks to Sakaia, Tom Valor, Tizai and Ashtynn-Jade for your reviews. To answer your questions, Thaimor is a male Half-Elven Ranger and Drow problems won't even be the half of it by the latter stages of this fic ;) 


	4. Chapter 4:The Hunt resumes

Vengeance Of A Ranger Chapter 4:A Quest For Knowledge  
  
A week of hard travel has brought me before the gates of Silverymoon in my search for knowledge. With winter on my heels, I left Iirith in his fortress with a few animal watchers to hopefully keep me informed of his actions but I have never been so far from my "eyes". The distance that separates me from my homeland is a cold aching numbness in my heart. The memories of those innocents slaughtered then resurrected to serve the force that took their lives and souls lights a fire in my heart...  
  
I have spent the night in Silverymoon, resting before returning to do what I can to stem this tide of evil. I have alerted the proper authorities and have replaced my lost weapon with an enchanted katana, created for battles against the undead. I have retained previous equipment with only minor repairs made. When sunrise arrives, I depart this fair city to continue my search for justice...  
  
The road welcomes me as one of her own until a group of gnolls attack me. A vicious halberd swing is all the warning I received of their hostile intent. Rolling backwards and underneath the blow, I draw my blades. A cold fire burns in the blade that I have come to call "Reaper" as it bites deep into the gnoll's inside thigh. The gnoll howls in rage as my non-magical blade crosses his jugular vein, halting his cries. The movement of air behind me forces me into a sidelong dodge as another Gnoll strikes the ground upon which I had slain one of it's kin. Blood spills once more on this dusty road as the second Gnoll feels my blade. The sweeping strikes with Reaper, the curving lines in gnollish flesh, the drops of blood in the dust all come from one movement. The leading gnoll now stood before me, his chainmail armour and gleaming halberd marked him as superior to those who had already fallen to my blades. A guttural growl issued forth from his lips warned me of my coming death. Reaper parried his halberd while my left blade forced it further away from me. Pivoting on the spot I spun Reaper in to strike hard at my open foe, the fine edge of its blade biting into chain links, severing them apart. The gnoll swung its vicious halberd back towards me as I tried to dart back out with its range. The blade glanced across my bracers, scoring a shallow line in the leather. The back swing with the weapon was caught between my blades as I kicked out at my opponent, catching it in its midriff. Although the blow held little force it struck just below the rib cage, expelling the remaining air from its lungs. A sudden separation of my blades caused the gnoll to overbalance and stumbles. My right and left hands worked in concert to pass through the gnoll's throat in opposite directions. The severed head dropped to the road as the body fell limp. I drew my cloak up over my head as I walked away from the grizzly scene...  
  
Authors Notes: Sorry for the long break between chapters but I've been busy recovering from knee surgery and have been spending a lot of time with my girlfriend. I hope those who enjoyed previous chapters will enjoy this one and I thank you once more for you support 


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